


hot dog water

by thepinballer



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: God - Freeform, M/M, This is Bad, and it holds power, because google docs wont acknowledge its existence, im literally only posting this because i cant share it with my friend abby, its just what the doc was named, the title is unrelated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinballer/pseuds/thepinballer
Summary: oof





	hot dog water

There’s a loud knock on the door and Anatole stops breathing for a moment. God.  _ God.  _ If this is Hélène, he might as well give up on having any dignity again, ever, in his entire life. 

 

Anatole flails around for a moment, managing to tangle his blanket into a sort of toga. He stumbles to his window, only tripping twice, and opens it as quietly as he can. Of course, instead of finding his older sister ready to insult him for being a sweaty little rat boy, he finds Dolokhov, his dear best friend, staring at him in confusion. 

 

“Were you-“

 

“You know. Fedya, you know. Why- you don’t- you don’t have to- you know, Fedya.” Anatole lets out a deep sigh and steps to the side, letting Dolokhov climb in through the window. “God, just- turn around, I need to put pants on.”

 

Dolokhov snorts and turns around, closing the window behind him and waiting. Meanwhile, Anatole stumbles towards his dresser, digging through a drawer and pulling out a pair of ratty sweatpants. He attempts to drape the blanket around his shoulders and simultaneously pull the pants on, which in the end just makes everything more difficult.

 

Anatole sighs and ruffles his hair. “Okay, okay, you, you can turn around now.” Dolokhov turns around with a small smile on his face. Anatole quickly looks away, sitting down on the bed. “What’d you want, anyways? It’s like, two in the morning.”

 

Dolokhov slips out of his shoes before sitting down next to Anatole with his legs crossed. “It was just loud at home, and I wanted to see you.” Anatole will  _ not _ let this make him smile, because he is an emotionless bitch with no time for affairs of the heart. Only affairs of like, the dick or something.

 

Anatole runs his hand through his hair before looking up at his friend, giving a small, dumb grin. “That’s stupid,” he laughs, lightly hitting Dolokhov on the shoulder. 

 

“Who wouldn’t want to see someone as cute as you?”

 

Ugh.

 

_ Ughhhhh. _

 

“You’re so dumb,” Anatole mumbled, running his hand through his hair again. He leans against Dolokhov’s side, slowly just slumping into Dolokhov’s lap. After a moment he cleared his throat and softly stated, “I’m tired.”

 

Dolokhov looked down at him, raising his eyebrows. “Really? You didn’t even c-”

 

“Fedya, oh my god.”

**Author's Note:**

> weed cult


End file.
